


Love is a Battlefield, or, Why Ballet is a Poor Method of Conflict Resolution

by DeusPascitCorvos



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeusPascitCorvos/pseuds/DeusPascitCorvos
Summary: In which Ahiru and Rue find an unexpected way to work out their issues, Fakir is a jerk, and nobody gets what they want.





	Love is a Battlefield, or, Why Ballet is a Poor Method of Conflict Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> I have written something very silly and I regret nothing.

Princess Kraehe chuckled. “I soaked his feeling of love in raven’s blood before you returned it to him. Now he’ll love only me, and he’s lost to you forever. Really, it’s for the best.”  
With each mocking phrase, she danced closer and closer to the wide-eyed Princess Tutu, enjoying the horror on her face. When she was so close that their dresses nearly touched, she whispered, “After all, what could you ever do with him except disappear?”  
Princess Tutu’s eyes narrowed. And then she punches Princess Kraehe in the face.  
“Ow!” The black-clad girl reeled back. “You–! Tutu, you–!” Her eyes narrowed. "Ahiru, you _bitch!_ "  
And then it was on.  
“Oi, Mytho,” said Fakir to his old friend as the Prince cringed away from the rolling ball of feathers and fury hurling itself around the floor, “which one do you want to win?”  
“Well, naturally–” The Prince choked in midsentence, clutching his chest and making a face like he’d just been force-fed wasabi. “I- Ack- Urk–”  
“That’s what I thought,” said Fakir smugly. “Sit tight there, Mytho. This won’t take long.”

* * *

The fight wasn’t going well for either party. Kraehe was the more vicious but less athletic, and her skimpy dress had certain disadvantages…  
“Ow ow ow! _Nails,_ Ahiru!”  
“Don’t you see how much you’re hurting him! Don’t you care that he tried to sacrifice my best friend’s heart to a giant bird?”  
Princess Kraehe delivered a perfect kick to Princess Tutu’s groin. “Father needed it!” she shouted as the other girl reeled back.  
“Mytho sealed him away because he was trying to eat people’s hearts! How much more evil can you get?”  
The two girls flung themselves together again, and the shouts turned into yelps.  
“All right,” said Fakir. “I think that’s probably enough for now. What do you think?”  
Mytho convulsed, and looked up at him in hatred.  
“That’s what I thought. Don’t go anywhere.”  
Steeling himself, the knight grabbed both girls’ shoulders and forced them apart. “Feel better?”  
Princess Tutu glared at him, her lip bloody. “I wasn’t finished yet.”  
Princess Kraehe made a noise like an angry cat. “You… coward… getting… your… friends… to fight… for you.”  
“Out of breath?” asked Princess Tutu sweetly. “Should have exercised more. All those magical appearances and disappearances, you’re getting chubby.”  
“Oh… you–”  
“Enough, already,” said Fakir.  
Princess Kraehe laughed cruelly. “Look, orange sauce!”  
“What? Where?” Ahiru hiccouped in panic and turned into a small duck.  
Princess Kraehe laughed more cruelly still (her father had made her practice). “See, Mytho? This is the Princess Tutu you were obsessing over. She’s a teeny tiny little duck who can’t even tell someone she loves them without–”  
“QUACK!”  
“Ow!”  
The duck flapped onto Fakir’s shoulder and hissed at the raven princess, who was now sporting a nasty cut on one ear. Fakir combed its ruffled feathers into some semblance of order, but they still stuck up all over the place.  
“No love lost between birds, eh?” he sighed. “Seriously, give it a rest already. You’re no different from each-- ow!”  
The duck huffed and flapped away into the gloom, a dripping wet Ahiru returning moments later. "We’re not the same at _all._ "  
“You’re both birds magically turned into the shape of girls by an evil wizard, you’re both ballet dancers, you’re both chasing the same boy.”  
“She’s a scheming bitch who’s trying to steal my man!” shouted both girls at exactly the same time.  
Fakir folded his arms and frowned smugly. “I rest my case.”  
“Don’t think I’m going to give up now,” muttered Princess Kraehe. “I’m winning, so why should I?”  
“I’m nothing like her! She’s feeding Mytho raven’s blood and it’s making him into a horrible person.”  
Fakir sighed, and moved quickly.  
“Fakir, you jerk!” shouted both girls, just before dissolving into purple and golden light respectively.  
“Say you’re both sorry,” said Fakir, dangling a necklace from each hand.  
Both birds glared at each other with mutual disdain. Then they lunged.  
“You were wrong, Fakir,” observed Mytho, who’d slid down the wall and now sat slumped at its base looking ill and handsome. “This is going to take a while.”

* * *

“I’m sorry I hit you and sort of stole your boyfriend,” said Ahiru in a slight monotone. One of her eyes was rapidly turning purple  
“I’m sorry I tried to sacrifice your best friend to a giant crow, and tried to make you disappear in a flash of light,” said Rue. Fakir clicked his tongue and tugged at the necklace gently. Rue, missing several chunks of her hair and standing in a small pile of feathers, shuddered. “And sort of stole your boyfriend _who was actually my boyfriend to start with._ Actually. Wait, I’m not sorry at all.”  
“Fine! Then neither am I!”  
“It’s amazing how they get their energy, really,” sighed Fakir. “Still, it does give me an idea.”  
He eyed Mytho, who stared back in mingled pleading and loathing.

* * *

“Did you hear?”  
“Did you hear?”  
“Mytho’s been transferred to Munich!”  
Perched side by side on the roof of the library, a girl dressed all in white and a girl dressed all in black glared at each other.  
“This is all your fault,” they said in unison, and sighed.


End file.
